Que Sera, Sera
by xLittle Black Star
Summary: He's a foot taller than her now but he'll always be her baby. :: Mother's Day tribute piece for Sally


**Note:** Just a reminder that it's Mother's Day and Sally Jackson still hasn't seen her only son. Carry on.

**Song choice: **_Closer, _Better than Ezra

* * *

"This is the strongest heartbeat I've ever heard," the doctor told her, clearly intrigued.

Sally's own heart seemed to swell to the point of bursting as she listened to the steady pulse emitting from the monitor. This was her baby. _Hers. _And everything else in the room, in the world, seemed to fall away but her and that little, tiny heartbeat.

"I know," she whispered, so low only she could hear. "Of course it is."

And that's when the center of her world shifted.

—

Being a mom is a full time job, Sally discovered quickly. Which was unfortunate, really, because she needed another job to make sure she and Percy didn't end up on the street.

So naturally she was the one that ended up getting neglected—the baby and the boss had first priority, at least until she could get a bit more financially stable. She sometimes amazed herself with how little sleep she could run on. These days, she was stretched in ways she never would have thought possible. She snatched up any extra hours she could get, often working overtime and filling in shifts for her co-workers. Half the paycheck seemed to go straight to the babysitter anyway, but it was progress.

She found herself staring at the clock almost obsessively, drumming her fingers on the counter and trying not to think of how much of Percy's day she was missing. Only a few short months ago, she would hardly have cared about the time—her lonely apartment had been as mundane as work. But now she practically sprinted home, hoping to catch him before he fell asleep. She didn't even mind coming home to his wailing: secretly, she liked that best, when she could take him from the nanny and comfort him in a way that the other woman would never be able to. She was his mother, after all, and she sometimes felt the need to prove she knew how to take care of him, despite everything. Usually he calmed down as soon as she held him for a few minutes, to her absurd delight. She liked to think he'd been waiting for her to come home, too.

He would usually fall asleep in her arms soon after. She knew she should put him down and catch a few hours of sleep while she still could, but sometimes she just couldn't bear it.

—

He didn't resemble her much, she noted, with a tinge of disappointment.

He was only a couple months old, but his eyes were completely, almost startlingly green and she could already tell his hair was much darker than hers. She knew most babies coloring changed within the first year or so, but Percy wasn't most babies, and she knew with complete sincerity that he would look like his father. She wondered if that was a trademark all demigods shared. It was a mind boggling concept; Poseidon didn't even have DNA. Sometimes she would think about what that meant for Percy—did he even have 46 chromosomes?—but it hurt her head too much.

It didn't matter anyway; he carried her DNA, her blood. He was hers. He was perfect. Still, sometimes she wished he looked less like Poseidon and more like her. That way, it would be very clear where he belonged: with her.

—

He was observant, she could tell that right away. She wasn't sure if it was part of the ADHD he'd most likely be diagnosed with or if it was unique to Percy, but he was clearly more perceptive than other kids his age.

Sometimes _too _perceptive. She never seemed to be able to hide anything from him, even if he was better off not knowing. She'd come in the door, beaten down and exhausted, and he would immediately ask her if she was alright (her answer was always yes, even if she wasn't). He'd notice when she was paying the bills, stressed and running her fingers through her hair anxiously. And whenever she couldn't sleep, he'd wander into the living room and sit on the couch with her, even though she was extra careful not to wake him.

Sometimes she thought he took better care of her than she did of him.

—

She began to expect the unexpected.

While Percy himself was relatively ordinary, extraordinary circumstances followed him everywhere he went.

Once, he'd pointed out a dolphin. She hadn't been able to see it, so he'd cupped his hands around his little mouth and called it to the dock. She'd watched in shock as the dolphin changed course and leapt towards them, stopping in the water underneath them so they could touch it. Occasionally he'd wander away from her in Central Park and she'd find him talking to the nymphs as they giggled and fussed over him. Naiads would wave at him from the beaches in Montauk, smiling and beckoning. He'd wave back, laughing, completely indifferent to the bizarreness of the situation. She supposed for him it wasn't bizarre, but she'd never quite get used to it.

She could never quite shake the nagging feeling that Percy would encounter much more than nymphs and naiads.

—

"Mom?" he called out to her one night, just after she'd finished tucking him in.

She sighed and pushed the door open again. "Hmm?"

"What's going to happen to me?"

Sally frowned and reentered the room, hovering over his bed. "What do you mean?"

Percy shrugged. "D'you think I'll be important? Or rich, or famous?"

A smile tugged on the corner of her mouth. "Que sera, sera," she whispered.

His tiny face scrunched in confusion. "What's that mean?"

"Whatever will be, will be," she said softly. "My mother used to sing it to me. It's about how even though we can't see the future, we still have to keep moving forward."

"Oh," he sighed, sinking back into the pillow. "Can I hear it?"

She ruffled his hair and started to sing. He asked for it every night after that.

—

He was six when the nightmares started.

The first couple of nights he would come and wake her up, and she'd stroke his hair and sing a lullaby until he fell asleep next to her. _Que sera, sera, _she'd repeat, over and over. He seemed to like that one best.

They gradually became less frequent, but every couple of weeks he would pad down the hall and slide her door open, eyes large and frightened.

So she sang and held him tight, because there wasn't anything else she could do.

—

Things were moving too fast.

Poseidon had said it wouldn't start until he was around twelve. That was four years away, and already she had started to spot them, more and more frequently. She became hypersensitive of it whenever they went out in public. For once, she was incredibly thankful she'd been blessed with the Sight, or she's not sure she could have borne it. Still, even though she could see through the Mist, she was suspicious of everyone. She hated when people tried to talk to him or play with him, even though most of them were perfectly nice, friendly people who simply liked kids. She was tense and irritable whenever they went out, though she tried desperately to hide it. She slipped into full on panic mode whenever he went out of her sight, and it took everything in her not to reprimand him harshly for it.

Percy seemed to know how anxious she was. He begged her for answers, but she never gave anything away. He wasn't ready to bear a burden so huge. She wasn't even ready. She knew that telling Percy would only make matters worse. He couldn't control it any more than she could. Every moment she was away from him the uneasiness in her stomach grew. It made her shoulders tense and her tone sharp at work, leaking stress into every aspect of her life. Whenever she had to leave she faced the sickening prospect of what might happen while she was gone. The worst part is that it would probably happen anyway, even if she was home, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it.

And that was downright terrifying.

She knew she couldn't live in a perpetual state of fear. And it was only going to get worse as Percy got older. She wanted to grab him and run far, far away, where no one could ever touch him and she could protect him forever. But she knew that wasn't possible. No matter where they went, the monsters would always catch up. That's what they did.

Something needed to be done.

—

Telling Percy was worse than she could have possibly imagined. She hadn't expected him to be thrilled with the idea of a stepfather, but she thought he'd at least be open to what she had to say.

Instead, he stared at her in shock, mouth open and green eyes wide.

"Mom, you can't," he whispered. "Please don't."

She wished she could explain that she didn't want to either, but she _had _to. She needed to keep him safe and close, and this was the only way that would work.

Instead, she tried to smile and pulled him into her arms. "It's going to be okay, baby," she whispered. "Que sera, sera."

—

She hated him more than words could possibly describe.

She hated him because he was disgusting, rude, and possibly the most worthless human being on the planet. She hated him because he exposed Percy to things she never wanted him to see. She hated him because he made her feel so weak, so powerless. She hated him because when he hit her for the first time, she had to stand there and _take _it, because if she didn't they'd be back at square one.

Most of all, she hated him because they needed him.

Sometimes she wondered if it was worth it. Yes, her plan seemed to be working, and Percy was fairly safe now. But on the other hand, living with an alcoholic had serious drawbacks. To make matters worse, Percy was absolutely miserable. He loathed Gabe, so much that he never wanted to come home from school anymore, which shocked her as much as it scared her. Percy _despised _school. Seeing him so angry, so sad, so confused made her feel guilty guilty _guilty. _And while she no longer feared monster attacks, she was paralyzed with worry that Gabe would raise a hand to Percy. Was it really better this way?

Sometimes Poseidon's words would echo in the back of her mind, and she'd think of that drawer with Camp Half-Blood's address tucked inside.

But she squashed the thought down. Percy needed his mother right now. There would be time for that later.

—

In the end, boarding school seemed to be the best option. She could still talk to him often and see him a couple weekends out of the year. Gabe's stench was so strong it seemed to cover him even far away, and now she could be positive Percy would never be abused.

But the distance was awful. She missed him so much it hurt. She wasn't there to boost his spirits if he'd been teased or bullied. She had no control over his homework or study habits, which showed in his report cards, but she suspected it had a lot more to do with being homesick than lack of effort. He always seemed tired when he called her, not at all willing to talk about his week.

When he came home for Christmas break, she could tell he was trying to look happy just for her. She tried too, but neither one of them managed it very well.

He looked so much older, like he'd aged five years in just a few short months, and her heart breaks just a little bit. He didn't come over and kiss her on the cheek anymore unless she asked, and he ducked away when she ruffled his hair, even though his eyes were teasing. He went to bed on his own, which stung before she realized that's what he'd been forced to do for the past few months, which made her feel even worse.

The whole week, she could tell he was containing himself from begging her to stay. A couple hours before he had to leave, he'd looked at her with a hopeful expression, silently pleading she would let him stay.

She'd never forget how his face had fallen when she sent him back.

—

When Percy came home from Yancy in June, he was a little boy still.

When he walked back into her apartment less than a month later, he was a hero.

—

Sally hadn't realized how difficult it was to keep secrets from Percy until she didn't have to anymore.

She felt obliged to explain everything: the reason he had never quite fit in with the other students, why she'd put up with Gabe, why she'd always gotten so tense around strangers.

He cut her off halfway through. "I know, Mom," he laughed. "I know. It's okay."

All her guilt melted away when he said that.

—

Despite how hard she tried to hide it, she never managed to stop worrying.

He was older, stronger, more mature, but when he left on another quest or solved another Olympian problem she couldn't help but see the helpless baby who used to depend on her for everything. For so many years his safety had rested solely in her hands, and it was indescribably difficult to pass that responsibility on to him.

He was only a teenager, still so young and inexperienced. There was so much more she had to teach him. How could she let him go off on his own?

But he was Percy, and he always managed to come back to her. She had to trust him.

—

He was so much older, sometimes it startled her.

When he came home from Camp summer, she almost had a heart-attack over the depth of his voice. He still had his slim build, but he was definitely well-muscled and not nearly as awkward as last summer. More than that, he seemed to carry an aura of power that she was completely unaccustomed to. As a matter of fact, girls had started turning their heads when he walked by, to Sally's amusement. She'd burst into laughter, unable to contain it, and he'd give her a puzzled look, having absolutely no idea he'd just been checked out.

There were times he looked like a man, brave and strong and handsome. There were other times when he'd walk through the door and she still saw a little boy with dimples and gravity-defying hair, and she wished she could scoop him up into her arms again.

But he still had that peculiar way of looking at people, like he could look straight inside them, and his classic smirk that meant trouble. He still blushed too easily and fidgeted too much. He was still Percy, her Percy.

—

She couldn't shake the all-consuming dread she felt when he turned fifteen.

She knew there had been a reason for the pact, and she also knew Poseidon had broken it. And she had helped. And now, she was very aware Percy might pay the consequences.

Poseidon had told her the gist of the Prophecy—though she suspected he'd held some things back for her sake—and she knew that meant Percy had one year left before everything changed.

One year.

—

When he entered her apartment in the middle of August, Nico di Angelo trailing awkwardly behind, she knew something big was about to happen. It was his expression, she decided: Percy had never looked so deadly calm before.

The fear she'd suppressed all summer began to overwhelm her. She knew the war was coming, but the thought of having her son, her _baby, _fighting on the front lines made her sick beyond measure.

She wanted to strap him to the chair, chain him to the wall, bar the doors so he couldn't leave her. Most of all she wanted to grab him and hold him tight tight tight until all the danger passed away, but she couldn't do that. Even she couldn't talk Percy out of something he'd decided to do.

So she gave him her blessing, trying not to burst out into a fit of wailing and whining and crying. Why, why did it have to be her son to lead the war? She knew that he was brave and sweet and powerful and skilled and kind and caring and compassionate, but she wanted him to be _safe _and it was so unfair she wanted to scream.

But she looked into his eyes and she knew he was _scared, _that he needed her to be there for him, to believe in him. So she sat up straight and she held her head high and she did her very best to smile.

—

Nico trudged out the door first and Paul retreated back into their bedroom, leaving Sally and Percy and tense silence behind.

She blinked tears away and put her head on his shoulder. "I don't want you to do this," she whispered.

"Mom…" he sighed, biting his lip in the way he'd done since he was a toddler. It was still adorable. He took a deep breath. "If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself. I can't let you take care of me forever."

She winced at the words, remembering when she'd said them. She wished she could argue, but words froze on her lips.

"Mom, I have to do this," he said quietly, looking at her softly, but pointedly, too.

"I know," she replied, gripping him so tightly it must have hurt. "I know."

He gave her a sad smile. "Que sera, sera, right?"

She managed a laugh and wiped her eyes. "Whatever will be, will be," she sighed, running a hand through his ever-tousled hair.

He walked out the door, and she tried very hard not to think this might be the last time she ever saw him.

"I love you," he called back.

And then he left.

—

She didn't panic when Annabeth first called her. It wasn't unusual for Percy to leave on a brief side-project. He had the craziest adventures when he went off on his own, but they never lasted more than a day. He would be back.

But the days passed and there was no word, and she started to get anxious. Percy hated being fussed over; he would never intentionally let her—or Annabeth—worry about him. He had always been pretty good at checking in with her, and when the days turned into weeks, her mind started to think up horrible scenarios that kept her from sleeping at night.

As Christmas grew closer, she felt completely numb to the hustle and bustle. There was something very wrong. She could feel it in the air.

She prepared herself for the worst when she heard Chiron's voice on the other side of the line. She dropped the phone anyway.

—

The waiting was unbearable.

Some days she could hardly get out of bed. There was a constant weight pressing on her chest, constricting her heart and crushing her windpipe.

She felt his absence like a physical ache. Everywhere she went it was always in the back of her mind; she could never escape it, even when she slept. It didn't help that there were echoes of him littered throughout their apartment. His bed still had his imprint, shoes still in the hallway, his backpack still tucked behind the kitchen table.

They had twice as many leftovers after dinner now, and she never seemed to be able to remember to make less. His rowdy, eccentric friends never tumbled through the door anymore, and she had no one to watch _24 _reruns with. Music didn't play through the house anymore, muffled through his door. She had to wait for Paul to come home to carry up the heavier groceries, and sometimes she still found herself glancing at the clock and wondering why Percy was so late from school.

And then she was jerked back to reality that her son was _gone, _missing, maybe didn't even know her _name, _and she had no means of getting to him.

—

The phone rang loud in her ear, jarring her out of a fitful sleep. She rolled over, checked the caller ID, and groaned. She hated solicitation calls.

Eventually the ringing stopped and the answering machine clicked on. She was just starting to doze again when she heard a single syllable: "Mom."

_Mom._

She knew that voice, and only one person would ever call her that.

She sprang out of bed, wide awake, and froze in front of the counter, listening as her son's voice drifted from the tiny machine. He sounded tense, she thought, but she couldn't tell through the garbled answering machine and the conversation in the background. His voice faltered a few times, and she knew that even now he was withholding information he knew would scare her. A lump formed in her throat. Always Percy, always thoughtful.

"I'll make it home. I promise. Love you," he finished, followed by the awful click that meant he was gone.

She stood there in shock and silence, unmoving. It was as though her feelings weren't quite sure what to do. She felt relief flooding through her, but the razor-sharp edge of worry was still underneath it. He was alive but he was by no means safe; not yet. Her heart seemed to shrink with disappointment when she realized if she would have just _picked up the damn phone _she could have _talked_ to him; maybe given him some small comfort in spite of the mess he was caught in.

She played the message countless more times, picking out random details and trying to picture his face as he said the words.

She knew she should wake Paul up, call Annabeth immediately, but she hesitated. Percy had a girlfriend and a whole camp full of friends anxiously waiting for him, and yet he'd called her. His mother. He had thought of her first.

She was gripped by a fierce love only a mother could experience. And she thought that just for tonight, she'd keep this message to herself.

—

Six impossibly bleak, miserable months after Percy had vanished, Annabeth stood in her doorway yet again.

Sally noted that she didn't look quite so beaten down or exhausted. Her eyes had some sparkle in them again, and her smile seemed genuine.

"We're leaving tomorrow," she said, practically bubbling over with excitement and nervousness.

Sally tried to force down the bitter jealousy that rose inside her, but she couldn't quite manage it. Annabeth could leave, Annabeth could _help. _Sally, on the other hand, had to sit here and wait.

"You bring him home, Annabeth Chase," was the only reply she could manage, hugging the other girl tightly.

—

Now, she's running.

She thinks she might have left the stove on but she doesn't care, she _doesn't care. _She's sprinting faster than she has in years, pushing, shoving, elbowing people out of the way because she _doesn't care._

She manages to call his name and he turns, surprised, excited, happy.

His lips form the word _mom _and then she grabs him, wrapping her arms around him with all the strength she has, laughing and crying and swaying back and forth.

"_Mom," _he croaks, trembling and burying his head in her shoulder, rocking back and forth, from foot to foot.

"I know," she whispers, through her tears. "I know, baby, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

—

He's a foot taller than her now, but he'll always be her baby.

* * *

.

.

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Guys it's like midnight and this is the most dysfunctional piece of writing in the history of ever but Sally needed a Mother's Day tribute I mean come on. Sorry for this terrible mess, it's completely unedited and asdfghjkl I need to go to bed.

Okay?

Okay. Goodnight.


End file.
